Course Correction
by storywriter30
Summary: He just can't get her response out of his head. Because she deserves a happy ending and she should depend on that.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** A Post-Dammed If You Do piece, focusing on the effects of Ziva's last spoken line in the episode when she says she's "Never depended on happy endings." A small multi-chapter fic.

* * *

**Part I**

He's genuinely surprised when she opens her door. It's two days after they all resigned and as much as he'd tried not to think about her and what she said, it had all but consumed him in those forty-eight hours. He doesn't know why he's so surprised but he is.

"Ziva," he startles.

"Tony," she counters and she turns her head to the side, surveys him and determining that he seems relatively fine, she leans her head against the side of the door and regards him with a careful smile.

"I wasn't expecting you."

"I live here."

"I know that," he smiles. "I just thought you'd be out…enjoying our…free time."

She sighs and shrugs. "It doesn't feel … free …or…" She stops mid sentence and comes to a quick realization before stepping back and waving him in. "I don't know why I let us just stand in the hall."

Tony digs his hands into his pockets and looks around her apartment. It's rather disorganized for a place that Ziva David inhabits. The box filled with her desk effects sits haphazardly emptied on the floor and he notices her spare gym clothes from the locker room strewn over the back of the couch.

She disappears into the kitchen and he follows, taking a seat in a chair as she pops herself onto the counter.

They stare at each other for a moment and it's not lost on either of them how sad and all together lost the other looks.

And then he remembers why he came in the first place.

"Can I ask you a question?" he says.

Her eyes perk up a little because he seems so earnest in his request. "Of course."

"What you said the other night…I've been thinking about it."

"That is a statement," she observes.

"Did you mean it?"

"Mean…what?"

"That you've 'never depended on happy endings.'"

"Oh." She says. And the seriousness of the conversation he is looking to have has just fully dawned on her. She knows, though, that she must be honest with him because she feels they've only just barely regained their footing and it's not something she can afford to loose. "Yes, I meant it."

He nods and purses his lips, because, he'd figured she'd meant it. Ziva meant most things that came out of that mouth of hers. But…he'd kind of hoped she hadn't because…for some reason…it made him quite sad.

"Why do you ask?"

He doesn't realize that he's been studying her tiled floor until her question snaps his head upward. And then his eyes widen because she looks so open and raw before him. He ponders his reply carefully.

"That's just a … _substantial_ thing to say."

"It is the truth," she shrugs.

And her eyes, though he didn't think it was possible, have grown sadder.

"You want the truth, right?"

"Always."

They lapse into silence for a moment and he wonders why his answer sounded more like a promise than a response. He's been in deep for too long now, he supposes.

"Last fall," she begins, "After we caught Dearing and…before my father showed up…that felt like a movement towards a happy ending I did not deserve, anyway."

"Don't say things like that." He cuts in with conviction. "You deserve a happy ending. You _know_ that."

She laughs then and it's sad and sarcastic.

"I don't know how you can say that after recent events."

"You're my…my best friend," he shrugs, "I'm always going to think you deserve the best."

* * *

Following her now ex-partner's pattern, Ziva spends forty-eight hours mulling over her conversation with Tony. Namely, she can't seem to get the conviction behind his words out of her head. She tries – hard, but she can't.

And like her now ex-partner – she absolutely despises the recently added on prefix because _he is her partner_ and always should be – she is genuinely taken a back when he opens his door in response to her triple knock.

"Not expecting me to be here?" he asks.

"No," she shakes her head, "Shouldn't you be off rooting for the Rangers now that the Capitals are out of the playoffs."

Ziva smiles a little as he bubbles just a bit with affection that she knows when his adoptive home town falls in sports, he will, albeit, slightly reluctantly turn back to his New York teams.

"They're not playing tonight," he says and she knows he's playing along, "Chicago and Detroit are."

"And who would you like to win that game?"

"I think Chicago's a nice town, but the Rangers," he pauses and raises a brow at her, "_when_ they beat Boston could trample Detroit."

"I see," she nods and then shakes her head in confusion, "But I still don't understand why you are not…with your … buddies."

He shrugs and then offers, "The same reason you were home the other night, I guess."

Both of their eyes drift to the floor and she wonders just what she's got planned to say next.

"Would you –"

"May I –"

At their mutual interruption, Tony smiles and takes a step back, opening the door for her. She follows him in and after slipping off her shoes, sinks back into the corner of his couch.

* * *

Two hours later, Detroit has lost and Tony is grumbling because even if the New York Rangers manage to beat the Bruins, which, if he's being honest with her, he doesn't think they'll be able to, they definitely will not be able to make it past Chicago. He resigns himself to rooting for Boston because that city has been through a lot the past month or so and maybe it would be nice for them to win the Stanley Cup.

"That's quite…generous of you, Tony." She's half poking fun at his rational and half looking to give him a genuine compliment.

His face lights up. "What can I say, Miss David, I'm a generous guy."

"Yes, you are," She agrees and then her face darkens and she knows he's noticed so she speaks her question. "Were you just being _generous_ when you said that the other night?"

"Said what?" he asks.

She shakes her head. After testing the water, it seems a bit cold. She thinks she'll go back to the shore. "Never mind."

"That you deserve a happy ending?" he asks, "No. No, I wasn't being generous. You do, Ziva."

There's that conviction again. "You feel…strongly about this," she says.

He sighs and turns to face her. "I told you. You're my best friend . . . someone I . . . care about . . . _a lot_. I will always want you to be the happiest possible."

Her eyes are damp and misty now and she thinks that if she ignores that, then maybe he will too. "I think," she says, "I think you are the…best, best friend that I have ever had."

"I doubt that."

"Don't."

* * *

She's not home when he shows up the next night. And neither is he when she shows up on his doorstep. They've broken their forty-eight hour pattern and their turn taking pattern.

Because what Ziva doesn't realize is that she should have waited for Tony to knock on her door rather than heading to knock on his. And what Tony has yet to find out is that Ziva was going to show up at his house two nights in a row rather than hope he'd come to her.

* * *

They are at coffee with McGee when the dots are connected.

It has been just shy of a week since they all placed their badges on Vance's desk. Gibbs is nowhere to be found and Abby has been calling on the hour, demanding their return. It's been almost a week too long, she says. But they all, including Abby, know that's not an option.

"Do you think Justice will pick us up?" McGee asks. He only means it as a form of conversation. He assumes it's something they've all considered.

"Not us," Ziva says, "_Me_."

"Don't say that."

And McGee's slightly taken a back by the way Tony nearly jumps down her throat. "Easy, there," he says.

"It's fine, McGee," she shakes her head, "He's just…it's fine."

McGee nods and he's not quite sure what just when on before him – an occurrence he has actually missed since being out of the office – so he changes the subject. "So what have you guys been up to?"

"Ziva went out last night."

"Tony went out last night," she counters.

And the statements cause them to stare at each other, some sort of realization taking over. He's missed them, yeah, but he hasn't missed being completely confused by their interactions.

* * *

"I'm coming over," he says when they reach her car.

"Now?" she asks.

"Yes, now." He snaps, but her shock makes him soften. "Is that okay?"

"Yes, sure."

* * *

They make small talk when he arrives. They discuss McGee and how he's probably starting a book. They talk about the weather. And then he stands because he's about to boil over and, hell, he might as well go for it, so he begins to pace her kitchen.

"I _hate_ being the 'best best friend' you've ever had." He panics when he sees the look of fear that that statement paints on her features so he stops pacing.

He comes to be beside her and squats down before her. "I don't want to be your best friend," he says and he swears there are tears in her eyes. "No, I'm sorry," he says. "I take that back. I love being your best friend but –"

She swallows.

"Ziva, this is most definitely the wrong time for this, but I want to be the guy who ensures you get the happy ending you don't think you deserve. I want to be _more_ than your best friend."

"You…what?"

"Just let me try."

"It is not that simple."

"I said try."

Her eyes widen and she stands, pushing past him. "Stay here," she says. "I need a walk."

* * *

**A/N:** Let me know what you thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow. Hi Guys. First of all, sorry this has taken so long - I ended up in a summer course and blah-blah. **

**Second of all: Obviously it's tough news for the fandom and all those who love Tony and Ziva. From my point of you, I can't lose new things from them on screen and also stop writing and reading people's hopes and desires for them. I just can't. So everything I have here will continue. That includes any of my other works as well. ****I love Cote and I'm sure she's doing this for her right reasons and that's all that matters, but I also love Ziva as a character and I think she has a lot of stories that still need to be told so to cope with the unfortunateness that is her coming departure, I'll still be here. **

**I hope you continue to read and let me know what you think. You're my best muse. **

**Much love and I hope everyone's okay-****_ish_. **

* * *

**Chapter Two**

She's gone for just shy of an hour. It makes sense, he thinks - the organization.

There's a soft click of the door to signal her re-entry. He doesn't look up - not even when she sinks beside him on the couch.

"You ran." He states.

"Tony, I ..." He catches the nod of her head with the corner of his eye. "Yes. I did."

He looks at her. "Why, Ziva?"

She sighs and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and she locks eyes with him and the frankness of her gaze is startling. "You scared me."

"I scared you." He confirms. The words come out of his mouth slowly because he hadn't been prepared for that kind of a response.

"Yes."

"Because I think you deserve a happy ending?" He questions and he's confused and slightly irritated.

"No…it wasn't that," she shakes her head.

"So...then...what _was_ it?"

Her face falls both literally and figuratively and she rests it in her palms. He can see the tension coiling through her back and he wants to lay a hand on her, help her relax, but he knows it's not the time.

So he just drops his voice so it's just above a whisper. "Ziva." He pleads.

When she finally looks up at him again, he's shocked and disturbed to see she's crying and then he gives in and puts an arm around her shoulder because she's always been his weakness.

"Talk to me." He says.

"I just cannot lose you," she spills.

"You won't," he answers automatically. Because that's never been on the table.

"You don't understand, Tony, when you first said you didn't want to be my best friend anymore I panicked because I ... I do not know what I'd do without you and if we get closer then I wouldn't know what to do if you realized you couldn't love me."

The admission makes his heart plummet because this doesn't seem like his Ziva talking, but rather, some nervous and unsure girl speaking to a man she hardly knows.

He doesn't know what to say. He knows what he wants to say. He knows what he feels, but he can't quite determine what is appropriate for their current situation.

He settles somewhere in the middle. "I don't see that happening," he says.

She nods but he knows that she doesn't believe him. He can see it in her gaze, the way it won't stay steady on his.

"I mean it," he repeats.

Ziva stares at him for a moment and he swears that he can see the gears turning in the back of her head. "A lot of things are changing," she says.

"Yeah," he agrees. "They are."

"I don't know how much of it I can handle." She admits.

His heart sinks because this is her extremely rational and – _goddammit_ – legitimate way of getting out of this. "I…I…" he stammers, "Okay."

But that's not the response she was trying to elicit because she catches his eyes and it's a look of pure horror. "No," she says.

"No?"

"I just mean…can we stay us… but be…be a better _us_?"

He rubs his forehead. He doesn't know how to read that. "Better _partners_ or … _better_ _partners_."

It takes her a minute, but after the tears begin to fall, she answers and it's crisp and clear. "A _better_ Tony and Ziva. An us that's us."

He knows what she means – well he's pretty sure he does, but he deflects with a joke anyway. "I think you're speaking in riddles, Ziva."

"Tony –"

"Sorry, sorry." He pats her knee and then opens his palm.

She looks down at it and then lays her hand in it and then curls her fingers through his. He squeezes and it makes her smile.

"So…Can I be _more_ than your best friend?" He asks.

She pulls her hand away then and he thinks that's a bad sign, but it's only to stifle a girlish giggle from her mouth. "Tony, you…you have been that for quite some time."

"Me, too." He responds.

* * *

It's dark out by the time she realizes that neither one of them has said anything for hours. But she's sure it doesn't matter because at some point his arm ended up around her and her head landed on his chest and the TV went on, but she's not been watching. Ziva think she may have been watching his fingers draw patterns on her arm for hours.

"I can hear you thinking." His statement causes her to startle and she turns to look up at him.

"You can?" she asks.

"Yeah. You're thinking you're hungry and that we should do something about that."

That's not what she was expecting and it makes her laugh. She pushes herself from the couch and suddenly, being out of his arm makes her really cold.

But it allows her to look him in the eyes and they're glinting. "I _am_ hungry," she says.

"I knew it!"

She crosses her arms over her chest and her tongue finds its way to her cheek. She's trying hard not to smile like an idiot at him. "Can we do something about it?"

"Yes." And then he's grabbing her hand and pulling her towards her front door.

* * *

They're a little under dressed for the restaurant that they end up at, but he couldn't care less.

"Is this a date?" And he laughs at the question because she has a mouthful of cheesecake when she mumbles the words.

He immediately feels bad because her eyes go wide and she stops mid scoop.

"Yeah," he smiles. "Right?"

She puts the spoon down and swallows. "Right. I mean you asked in kind of a backwards way, but best friends don't go on dates, do they?"

He shakes his head. "Not that I am aware of."

"How many dates do two people go on before they go from dating to..." she pauses and looks back at him and he's just waiting for the messed up idiom.

"Four or five, I guess. I don't know."

She accepts his answer and picks the spoons back up – taking more cheesecake.

"We could go on four or five tonight. If you want."

"You do not think we are an exception to that rule?"

"Would you like us to be?" he counters.

He watches her contemplate the idea while finishing the crust of the cheesecake. Earlier she spoke about all the change going on around them and he hopes he's not pushing her too much. He thinks he's reading the signs correctly, but then again, it's Ziva so he'll always be afraid that he's misinterpreted.

"How about three tonight and then you can…wow me on Friday and that will count as two." And she looks so incredibly proud of this idea that she has come up with.

"_Wow you_, huh?"

"I thought Anthony DiNozzo was a romantic."

"He is."

She smiles sheepishly. "So … you'll enjoy … _wowing_ me then, won't you?"

He pulls the spoon out of her hand and steals a piece of crust. "Oh, yes I will."

* * *

She's exhausted the next day, but she goes for a run anyway. Watching mindless television until three in the morning is not a good enough excuse to spend the rest of the next day in bed and anyway, she needs to get out and do something. She can't handle the anticipation. It's why she couldn't sleep last night.

Because Ziva David, though she is far from proud to admit it, is currently what her ex-partner and current…man-she-is-dating-and-almost-in-a-relation ship-with would call a child on Christmas Eve. She's coming unglued with excitement _and_ nervousness _and_ anticipation.

She has a hot date tonight.

With Tony DiNozzo at that.

She had gotten back to her apartment just after eleven. After dinner they'd gone for a walk along the tidal basin and hopped in the last paddleboat for rent. It was an activity that their current attire had been better suited for. And so they'd paddle around the illuminated waters just below the Jefferson and she had to admit that it seemed like such a date thing to do and she wished she'd hated it, but she'd loved every second of it.

Especially the feeling of his hand in hers.

And so when he'd walked her to her door, she'd been surprised and, quite frankly, a little disappointed that he hadn't kissed her good night.

For the next four hours she'd sat in her bed and tried not to think about what tomorrow would bring, but she'd failed miserably at that.

She stops mid-way through her run and stretches. Ziva never runs the same route and today she's gone from her Adams Morgan apartment through Georgetown and down to the monuments. She's at the base of the Capitol when she spies a familiar platform-wearing-goth running her way.

"Ziva! Ziva! Ziva! Ziva!" Abby runs to her and engulfs her in a hug.

"Uh…" She stammers, "Abby, I am quite sweaty…you do not want to be hugging me."

"I don't care," she waves her off, "I'm just so happy to see you. It's been almost two weeks. Do you know how that makes me feel, Ziva? I'm used to seeing you everyday."

She smiles, because she does know how that makes Abby feel. "I know, Abby, it must be terrible. We should have…a….girls day soon."

"Ohmygosh, Ziva," she stammers and it makes Ziva smile. "I would love that. It would be fabulous. I'll start planning now."

Ziva laughs and it may be out of pure nervousness because she's not sure what she's gotten herself into. "Um... I am not sure," she says. "Soon."

"I understand," Abby says knowingly and it causes Ziva to frown. And then Abby's smile widens. "Can't tear yourself away from Tony?"

Ziva's eye momentarily widen, but then she controls herself because there is no way for Abby to have any idea. "I have no idea what you're talking."

"Okay," Abby says and then turns to look at a group of children settling behind them on the grass. "I should go back to them. They're a group staying with the nuns. They're from New Orleans – we're showing them the city."

Her eyes wonder to the group and she let's herself gaze wistfully at the kids. Most of them aren't a day over eight years old and they're incredibly enthralled with being in their nation's capital. And she cant help, but picture she and –

"Cute, aren't they?" Abby's comments interrupt her thoughts and she just nods at her friend.

"Yes, they are. I will let you get back to them."

"I'll call you later about girl's day, Ziva."

* * *

He's uncharacteristically nervous when he arrives at her door that evening. It's just that he's never been nervous to pick up a date before.

But that's the difference. It's not just some date that he's hoping will lead to a nice evening. It's Ziva and he wants this evening to lead to more evenings and more evenings and early mornings and late afternoons and any other time or times of the day.

He knocks on her door a minute before seven. It's not quite fashionably late, but he didn't want her to get the wrong impression.

She opens the door quite fast and he thinks that maybe they're both a little anxious.

"Hi, Ziva." He says. It's a low and intimate sound.

She smiles. "Hello, Tony."

He looks her up and down. He's never seen her in this little black dress before and he's not sure how that's possible. "You look…"

"Hot?" she asks and it's such a saucy question.

"I was going to say gorgeous."

"Oh." She says and he can tell that she's both caught off guard and embarressed. "Well. Thank you."

His tongue pushes his cheek out just a tad and he nods, "You are most welcome."

"That is a nice suit," she says, "I don't know how I don't remember it."

"You've never seen it," he returns.

"Oh." Her eyes widen.

"I've only worn it twice."

He watches her hesitate. "What was the first time?"

He shrugs. "Just a wedding for a buddy from college. It was years ago." And then he turns the charm on. "Not nearly as important as this."

He surprises her again and watches as she gasps just a tiny bit.

"Ready to go?"

* * *

This time, they're dressed perfectly for the restaurant. There's a candle on the center of the table and the lighting is dim enough that candle envelops them into a small cocoon. It makes her lean instinctively closer to him.

He orders her the most expensive wine on the menu. She shakes her head at him, but he just smiles.

They talk non-stop through drinks, dinner and desert. It's easy and comfortable and she's not surprised.

But then she gets this overwhelming feeling of dread because things are not supposed to go well for her, especially in regards to them, but he's having so much fun so she tries to ignore the sinking feelings and focus on his eyes.

Of course, it doesn't work.

* * *

She reaches for his hand as the walk out into the night and he thinks it's a tad desperate so he studies her for a moment, trying to determine if and where the night's gone wrong in her eyes.

She looks uneasy, but she's gripping him tightly, so he doesn't let go. "Everything okay?" he asks.

Her head whips towards him and she breaks out into a smile, but her eyes are wet and so he leads them over to a bench.

"Ziva," he says.

She gulps. "Tony," she counters.

"Why are you crying?"

She swipes below her eyes. "I am not."

He just stares at her until she folds and it comes in the form of a little nervous laugh-sob.

"I am so nervous," she says, "Because this is …quite…nice and yet, the Justice Department is probably about to show up at my door and who knows whether we'll go back to NCIS or what the future holds or where –."

He puts a finger to her lips because she's becoming mildly hysterical and it's frightening him and he just doesn't like to see her upset. So he leans forward and lets his forehead leans on hers. She stops talking and her eyes flicker to his and then down to his lips and that's when he moves in. He brushes his lips against hers, once, twice and then he presses his to hers and he kisses her.

He actually kisses her and at first she is hesitant, but then she just melts into him and he runs his hand down the nape of her neck for a moment before pulling back.

They're breathing heavy and she's just staring at him.

"I didn't know what to say," he explains, "I don't know what to say to you because I have no idea what will happen."

"But you're not nervous?" she confirms.

He pauses. "No. I am," He says. "Especially with all of this," he nods to the lack of space between them, because her legs are still touching his.

"So what do we do?" she asks.

"We figure it out. We seem to be good at that."

He stands and offers her his hand and she takes it and lets him pull her to her feet. They head to his car and she inches closer and closer to his side.

"Are you tired?" she asks.

They're at his car and he's just pulled the passenger door open for her. He pauses, "Um, no not really."

"Isn't the hockey game on tonight?"

He smiles. "Yeah, it is. It's the first game for Boston and Pittsburg."

"Are you still rooting for Boston?" she asks.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm generous, remember?"

"I do." She nods.

"You want to go watch it at my place or somewhere."

"We look good," she says. "Shouldn't waste it." She shuts his door and takes his hand again.

"So is this our fifth date then?" He asks as he realizes she leading him to the bar just down the street.

"Would that mean something?" She looks at him.

He untangles his hand from hers and wraps it's around her shoulder, pulling her closer. "I think I'm your boyfriend, former Agent David."

"Partners again?" she asks.

"Yeah," he says and he kisses her temple. "Partners again. Best friends. Best girlfriend _ever_."

"It's only been two minutes."

He shrugs.

* * *

**Let me know! Cara. **


End file.
